Onegai shimasu (Mikey & Leatherhead)
by Jay Jones
Summary: A suite of one-shots with Michelangelo and Leatherhead written fast to capture a moment; and to note that meaningful connections can be beautifully nebulous, and perhaps more valuable for charting their own territory. In the context of this fic, the title, Onegai shimasu translates roughly to "please teach me/let me learn from you" as well as "may we have a good relationship".
1. Chapter 1

The candle flames pulsed beside the soft hiss and warm crackle of the refurbished phonograph. A dulcet jazz version of "Tea for Two" drifted out of the antique machine's fluted brass horn. Turtle and Alligator sat facing each other, each hugging knees-to-chest. Encircled by candlelight, even as they sat still their shadows danced across the four walls of the repurposed New York subway car. Despite their larger-than-life shades, the Gator loomed massive and imposing over the Turtle. It was an ironic image, since the young terrapin gave the elder crocodilian strength. What the croc offered the turtle…well, even if the turtle was clueless he knew it was something extraordinary. That, and the croc told a mean knock-knock joke.

Deep in conversation, the two friends hadn't noticed the time – it was deep into the night. This was typical of Michelangelo and Leatherhead. The solace and recognition they found in each other dissolved away the hours as much as it did their heartaches. Somehow, the alchemy of their friendship transmogrified their burdens into prospects, birthing 'verses much prettier than current RL.

Their friendship defied convention. It was weird. Mikey embraced Leatherhead like a puppy: a lethal puppy with a pure soul hijacked by fury and fear. Mikey innately gravitated to the monstrously powerful mutant, and loved his friend as the broken creature he was. Leatherhead was Mikey and his family writ large. He was Dogpound with hope of salvation. If Mikey could facilitate Leatherhead's rehabilitation by giving him love and lucidity, maybe some of that good karma would come back to Mikey and his brothers, too. Maybe the beast in all of them would fade, just a little; just enough.

Leatherhead understood some of this. Mikey, being Mikey, did not.

Befriending Michelangelo was one of the most unexpected things Leatherhead had ever done. The Turtle was frenetic, with his peculiar slang words, obsession with fantasy horses, and gift for misplacing the logic in anything. Perhaps Michelangelo's skill at 'disappearing' reason explained why Leatherhead achieved the closest thing to peace-of-mind when he was in the Turtle's company.

Leatherhead swam in the murky waters of self-hatred and outrage at his powerlessness when the Kraang captured and abused him. Mikey knew Leatherhead was capable of deep kindnesses and great feats because he was climbing up from a rock bottom of desolation and destruction.

Mikey drifted in a cloud of happy feelings fueled by his boundless love for his brothers and father. Leatherhead knew Michelangelo concealed pain of judgement and deep fear of rejection by his family from them, and himself. The croc predicted that one day this truth would cause his friend to fall hard. Leatherhead vowed to catch him.

If nothing else, Leatherheads' torments had taught him that it was better to choose how one is broken, because then one has a greater chance of knowing how to reassemble the pieces.

"My friend: in you I am trying to make sense of me. I hope that the feeling is mutual", rumbled a cogent Leatherhead to a chillaxed Mikey.

"Dude, that's totally gross", Mikey asserted, "Let's just keep with the hugs, like we do."

The Turtle and the Alligator fell silent, both deep in thought, one with his index finger to his chin, the other carefully picking a scab.


	2. Chapter 2

**Onegai Shimasu – Ni**

* * *

_This chapter sort of popped out of nowhere from my head, although I must give a nod to Andrea O'Down's endearing fic "My Mr. Turtle", which inspired Leatherhead's twist on a classic card game._

* * *

Leatherhead was hangin' in the old subway car, as usual. Dude really spruced up the place. Felt like a proper home in there. Amazing how us mutants can take the junkiest thing and make it work for us. I guess we're good at mutating stuff into other stuff. We got an instinct for it. Except for Leo.

L-head was sad, and nuthin' new there either. Never seems to shake the blues. Thaz' probably why he plays them so often. I don't mind: blues iz' the origins of hip hop, baybee. And I get it. It's soothing, hearing other peoples' problems; reminds you that, maybe, you're not as much of a freak as you think you are. And Leatherhead and me? We're about as freakish as it gets. Except for Justin. Oh, and Timothy. See? There's always someone worse off than you, to make you feel better about yourself.

Me, I try to make Leatherhead feel better about himself – Dude's such a gentle giant when he's not tearing everything up. The Croc just needs to find his way out of his own head; and I'm good at driving people out of their minds, Donnie says so. Guess that means I'm the Primo Turtle for the job. I re-adjust the boxed game of _Kinekt Force_ I've been carrying under my arm all the way from the Lair.

"Michelangelo, you have returned for another evening of conversation and 'Go Fish'?", rumbled a hopeful Leatherhead. "This time I promise it will not be so upsetting when we skin them."

"Bro, nooooo, not the fish, again! I'm down with 'za, not seafood. Well, not sewer seafood anyway. No offense – you're a Croc; gotta do like a Croc do."

"As you wish, Michelangelo. I will reserve the sewer piscids for myself. But may I offer you a brownie?"

"Hells_yeah_, Bro!"

We munched in silence, the chocolate rushing our brains at the same time. L-head and I sank back against the train's walls, blissed out and totally chillaxed. Don't know how, but Croco-Dude hooks up a Pro sweet fix. Just one of the reasons he's my best bro (aside from Raph, natch').

"Leatherhead, what if you couldn't ever eat chocolate again? Or raw sewer fish. What would you do?"

"What would I do if I could not snack? I would become very grumpy."

"I hear _that_. But, like, what if life's little pleasures were taken away? I mean, it's tough enough being – well, us. A little brownie – a lotta pizza – can go a long way to curing some big ills."

"You speak of hedonistic pleasures. Short term happiness. This is all I have known, since my escape from the Kraang and the horrors that befell me in their hands. I wish to overcome the wounds left by my abusers, yet I fear that if I try, and fail, then I am proven forever broken and enslaved even while free. I confess that I lack the mettle to fight. Thus the closest I come to peace of mind is…"

L-head got quiet then, like he does when he sinks into a funk. 'Sides, he doesn't need to be shy about it. I know he means that hanging with me is about as near as he gets to escaping who he thinks he is.

What knots my heartstrings into a tight ball is that he's golden just the way he is. I mean, I know that grabbing Donnie by the face and shaking him like a ragdoll is not the direction L-head gots'ta go in. But the Croc's heart is pure. I wish LH could see how he's so noble (_?_ _\- is that the word Leo overuses?_); he'd give himself up in an instant to save someone else, not a second thought about it (especially if Kraang are in the mix). He's a sweetheart if I ever saw one.

Except at parlour games. Then he has about as much mercy as Fishface.

"_Kinekt Force_", rumbled the giant crocodilian.

"Awwww, duuuude! Not _again_."

"My friend, I prefer to think that it is not _me_ who wins, but _you_ who loses."

_Cheeky sunofva…_ "Now thaz just not right. You can't pin that on me! I mean, you're the super-genius who keeps slotting four discs into a row. You expect me to compete with that mad skill?"

"Yes, Michelangelo. As does your father. Has he not been training you intensely in this ancient sport from the 1970s? I must pale in comparison to Master Splinter. If you triumph over me, then surely you are a step closer to defeating your Sensei."

"Defeat Sensei? Defeat. Senseeeeiii. That sounds sooo niiiice. It rolls off the tongue almost as easily as "pizza gyoza". OK, I'm feeling' lucky. Empty the grid, Big Guy, and let's see if I can put four circles together."

It only took me an hour to win! Leatherhead had to hint just a coupla times before I got the hang of seeing the pieces in a different way. I don't know how Don manages to learn so much, so fast, so all-the-time without a perma-migraine. If I had a crayon (note: add to April's shopping list) I'd draw a super-squiggly spaghetti line and that would be my brain after beating Leatherhead at this game. Changing perspective is super hard, but I guess it's like learning to skateboard: once you get it, it's hard to _not_ do it right.

"Another brownie, Michelangelo?"

"Naw, thanks dude. The sugar high would send me over the edge. I'm fried. Gotta head back to the Lair anyway: gots training tomorrow and I need to be _fresssshh_."

"Very well, my friend. As always, I thank you for coming to visit me. I appreciate that I am still not – _welcome_ in your home.

I started to protest but Leatherhead raised one of his huge mitts to stop me:

"It is for the best. I must be well for myself before I can be well for others. You seek your Father's acceptance, and I confess that – while I am in no way deserved of it – I do, too. He loves his family deeply, and is bold and sage. He leans into, not away from, change and, despite suffering great heartache and trauma, seems content. I would be fortunate if some day he was to share with me how he has overcome so many of his demons."

"Erm, you lost me at "for the best". But it's no thang. Friends go the distance for each other. And friends don't let friends leave without brownies…"

"Of course, Michelangelo."

The Croc packed me a tupperware (_reuse, reduce_, man), which I took, and then put down to give him a hug. I don't think he touches anything that's not dead except for me – and sewer fish, just before he kills them and then they're dead, too. He needs a stuffy – I keep forgetting about that (note: add to April's shopping list). And maybe a shade plant. If he can keep it alive then I'll consider getting April to buy him a goldfish. I'll still give the better hugs, though.

I picked up my snack and my game, stepped down onto the dead line of rail track, and turned back to face my friend.

"Stay loose, Leatherhead."

"I do not know what that means, Michelangelo. I hope to see you again soon."

"Fo sho', bro. You're not alone, you know; even when you are, you're not."

"I will try to remember that. Having a stuffy would also help."

"Totally! Yes! My bad! I'll make that happen, promise."

"Thank you, Michelangelo."

"See ya later, Alligator."

"In a while, Crocodile."

I like that, even while I walk away from L-head's pad, I can hear his music drifting through the air for a minute or so before the emptiness of the sewers seeps in. It reminds me that even when we're not hanging out, I can still hear him in my head, rumbling stuff that sounds smart and patient and gentle; stuff that makes me feel good about who I am, especially when my bros don't seem to think so.

Nobody's perfect. Not everybody accepts that. I'm pretty lucky to have a friend who does, and who lets me do the same – while sharing his brownies.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Onegai Shimasu_ \- San**

* * *

_Inspired by the recent Nick episode; and the fun of writing from Leatherhead's POV. Thanks to all who've expressed such love for this little string of one-shots - your kind feedback and encouragement mean a lot! :)_

* * *

I held my Stuffy close as I waited for my Crocodilian body's shaking to subside. This nightmare was much like my many others: Michelangelo had not escaped through the porthole after ejecting me and, then, his three brothers from _Dimension X_; and he was left to the torturous devices of the Kraang.

My breathing ragged, I focused on my inhalations – holding pungent air in my nostrils for several minutes at a time before exhaling slowly. My Stuffy did the same. He is good company in the dim isolation of this abandoned subway tunnel. I like it here. I feel safe as I can detect from a long distance any manner of creature that approaches my subway car-come-home. In this way, too, I know when Michelangelo is on his way to visit, and can tidy up before he arrives.

I considered telephoning him, but it was very late at night, past even when he plays his synthetic post-apocalyptic quests. While I have survived too many apocalypses to enjoy their re-inaction, it is undeniably cathartic to blow the heads off aliens, _in silico_ or otherwise. Michelangelo gifted me with what he calls a "T-phone" – somehow acquired when he faked the demise of his own phone to deceive his long-faced brother into building a new phone for him. He is a genius, my Friend.

Michelangelo also acquired for me this Stuffed Frog. He tells me its name is Raphael and that it knows Kung-Fu. I have since discovered that Raphael also enjoys brownies and tea, and appreciates ragtime music. To my delight, he is a gentle amphibian who is slow to anger and quick to openly share his feelings. And he Hates Kraang, as I do.

Against the night's calm, the tunnel hissed softly with the rustling of cockroach barbs: an invitation to a nocturnal snack. Raphael decided to stay back in the subway car. To keep him from being lonely, I turned on my gramophone. Its rhythmic vibration and warm crackle create a comfortable ambience – while distracting the small vermin such that they are simpler to catch and eat.

Minutes later, sated on fat invertebrates, I returned home to see if Raphael was soothed enough to fall back asleep. I was sad to have missed the opportunity to speak with Michelangelo, but comforted to know that if I truly needed him, he was but a "T-phone" call away. I suppose that this was the true purpose of my Friend's gift. He knows that I have broken and bested a thousand Kraang, and will do the same again, with delight. I can look after myself. But sometimes it is very nice to be looked after.

I imagine that Michelangelo does not realize that he comforts himself by comforting others. It is what Raphael might call a "win-win" situation.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Onegai Shimasu _****\- Shi**

_Epher requested a follow-up chapter from Mikey's POV. So that's the main inspiration for this update. The timeline and story arc here are deliberately fuzzy relative to the Nick show since, right now, the only character advancing a meaningful plot seems to be Ice Cream Kitty :P . __Lastly, as far as I know, there's no canon around the name of Mikey's teddy bear; so I had Mikey give him an actual name here. __Thanks to everyone for being so kind to keeping reading, and reviewing!_

* * *

"**LEATHERHEAD!**"

I woke up screaming, again.

The memory of my repeat nightmare was bright. It stung like a spotlight when it's your turn to dance, but you suddenly forget all the rad moves you rehearsed alone in your bedr- um. Anyway.

I wiped the water from the corners of my eyes, and listened in the darkness.

For a buncha ninjas with super-senses, my brothers could sleep through a zombie apocalypse when they were tired enough. Or maybe, by now, they were just used to my nightmares.

I hugged my teddy bear closer: Lewis always comforted me. Just like Leatherhead.

I'd dreamed that Croco-dude, my best friend, was falling, falling, faster-an'-faster, down a dark pit that seemed like it would never end. From inside the walls, fat tentacles grabbed for him. But he kept tumbling, away from me, further and further.

The look on his face? It was enough to make me shudder. His expression was only fear and fury. Like when he's in his darkest emotional place.

I **_hate_** that place. We worked so hard for him to climb outta' it; me an' him: together.

But this time, I couldn't do anything. I couldn't stop it. The only thing that finally broke his fall, was Donnie's face.

At least that's somethin', right?

But the worst part: it was all my fault. I didn't go get the Gator. I didn't go back for him. In my panic, I told myself he'd be OK on his own. He'd come so far, recovered from so much – had such calm breaths.

Giving L-head that stuffy seemed to have helped a million. Lewis was totally right about asking April to buy a plushy kung-fu frog, even if it was my idea to name him _Raphael_. Was the stuffy still with the Leatherhead? Did Raphael fall down the hole with him, too? Or was he like me? Waiting for his best friend to come home and having nightmares because he thought he never would.

All my fault. All my fault I didn't know the right thing to do. An' I lied to myself to make things easier. I coulda' made the same choice to stick with my bros, to get us all to safety, without emotionally selling my best friend upriver. I could have faced the reality of choosing to leave my friend behind.

Part me really thought he'd be fine. Why wasn't that part of me right? And if it _was_ right, which part of me is it exactly so I can always use it when Sensei asks me stuff?

Maybe Sensei's with Leatherhead? Maybe they found each other in the sewers? I bet they're patching each other up and comin' to find us even now…I bet _Raphael_'s leading the charge. Does Leatherhead still have my old T-phone that I gave him?

Lewis is tellin' me to be quiet and go back to sleep. He misses LH, and Raphael, too; I'm not the only one hurting. At least Lewis and me, we understand what each other's going through. We both lost our Dad _and_ our best friend. And that means: we also lost part of ourselves. I swear if anyone else other than Casey has something bad happen to 'im, I'm really gonna lose my sh-

_"__**SSShhhHHH!**_ Mikey, stop sleep-talking and go back to bed!"

Figures Leo would be the one to wake up and tell me to shush: _Be Quiet, Mikey. Have Nightmares Quietly, Mikey. Quieten Down_.

I can see the outline of Leo's shell against the faint light of the room. He's sat down by the door, and he'll stay there until he knows I'm calm, and back asleep. Leo's watching over me. I wish we could do the same for LH. Where are you, Dude?

I love my bro, more than life. But tonight? I'm gonna pretend Leo is Leatherhead sitting guard while I sleep.

* * *

.


End file.
